


There's a Storm Coming Tonight (And It Will Put Up A Fight)

by dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/M, Fluff, Gangsters, Secret Identity, Unconventional Couple, bit of angst, teary kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 16:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17124521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba/pseuds/dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba
Summary: "I've never had to reveal my real identity before so, hi? Surprise?"





	There's a Storm Coming Tonight (And It Will Put Up A Fight)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a Dodie song :)

“Y/n, Y/n  _stop!”_  He shoves his foot between the door and its frame, stopping it from slamming shut. With his shoulder, he forces his way through and storms inside the all too familiar apartment.

“I swear to God, Michael, get out of my fucking house. Or, should I say  _Dean_. Or  _maybe_  you go by a different name today, I wouldn’t know.” Dean deflates. Angry, hot tears are carving paths down her cheeks and she furiously wipes at them with the heel and back of her hand. God damn it, he should’ve seen this coming. He created a mess and he’s clueless as to how to fix it, keep her safe, and get out of all of it intact.

“Please, just let me expl-” She spins around sharply, hair flipping over her shoulder carelessly but gracefully, like a thin curtain of silk.

“ _Explain?!_ ” she yells. “You  _lied_  to me, Mike. You lied to everyone! To my brother, to my family, my  _dad_  of all people, if he finds you he’ll fucking  _kill_ you.” Despite everything, she seems hurt by the mere idea and Dean clings to the bit of hope that she still cares about him.

How is he going to make her understand?

“I know, kid, I know. I need to leave right now if I wanna make it out of this in one piece, but I’d rather die than have you hating me like this.”

“Well rest in  _fucking_  peace, I guess.” She spits out angrily and he feels like he’s been stabbed and the knife just  _twisted,_  harsh words crawling in his veins like icicles and seemingly freezing all of him.

Deafening silence.

She walks and plops on the couch, the black leather one, the one that stuck to their sweaty skin when he made love to her endlessly to her favorite songs. Her naked legs rest in the shape of a pretzel and her chest is panting heavily under her loose, manually cut-up, black AC/DC tee, the one  _he_ gifted her, tattooed arms crossing over her chest like a child that just threw a tantrum. Eyes red and teary locked out the window firmly, refusing to look at him, instead gazing into the night, whether wishing for him to just leave already or to hold her and comfort her, he can’t tell.

A minute passes.

“So what  _is_ your real name anyways?” Her voice is stronger than he expects. The fact that she hasn’t kicked him in the balls and out of her house makes him a little hopeful, like maybe deep down she  _wants_  to listen to what he has to say. And yes, he really needs to leave if he wants to make it out of this alive but  _screw it_. Screw the job, screw Chief, screw the bust and screw his life. She’s more important to him. He’d rather die.

He clears his throat. “It’s Dean. Dean Winchester.” He probably shouldn’t tell her his last name, but he trusts her. He trusts her because he knows all those whispered ‘I love you’s, all the times she curled up to his side, all the kisses, the heavy confessions they trusted each other with, the promises and tears and laughs, they were no lie. As much as she hates him right now, she still loves him. Love doesn’t go away that easy. At least Dean hopes.

“Winchester.” She tests the name, tastes the way it rolls off her tongue. He nods, lips pursed. “And tell me,  _Dean Winchester_ ,” He flinches at her sardonic tone. “What could you possibly  _want_ , coming here, huh? What were you expecting? A hug and kiss goodbye?”

“A chance.”

“A  _chance,”_  she scoffs with a disbelieving, half-hearted smirk, sniffling. “The nerve on you!” she huffs. “You blew every chance I could give you when you spoke the wrong name.” Her voice breaks on the last word and her red, tearful eyes are piercing through his  _soul._

“Look, sweeth-“

“Don’t  _fucking_  ‘sweetheart’ me. You lost that right.” He wants to fall to his knees and plead for forgiveness, he wants to explain he’s not the bad guy here. He wishes she’d just listen but he can’t really blame her. “You deserve what Donny and Dad are gonna do to you when they find you.”

“I didn’t  _lie_  to you.” Another scoff. “I mean- I did, I gave you a false name and a fake story, but everything I did with you,  _for_ you,  _all of it_  was real.” She gets off the couch and tries to shove past him but he grabs her wrist and tugs, stopping her. She turns and stares at him angrily.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

She shoves his chest with as much force as she can muster but he doesn’t budge. “Let me  _go_ , you  _bastard!_ ” She begins hitting his chest repeatedly, a broken sob falling from her lips and then another one, and another one and, fuck _,_  it hurts to see her this way, to know that it’s his fault she’s in this kind of pain. He doesn’t try to stop her, but he clutches her wrist like a lifeline, desperate not to have her pull away.

“What do you  _want_  from me?!” she screams and her fist flies clumsily, desperately to punch him anywhere on his face but he catches that hand too and pulls. She stumbles into his chest.

“Listen to me,” Dean says calmly, waiting for her eyes to lock with his. She’s trying to rip her arms from his hold. “ _Listen to me!_ ” She halts and meets his piercing gaze angrily. “Your dad, Donny, they  _killed_ people.” Her eyes are desperately jumping between both of his, Dean’s brimming with tears of their own, yet his tone remains levelled. “Beyond the drugs and beating people up for money, they murdered people in cold blood. Not for money but for  _fun.”_

“No,” Y/n shakes her head, bottom lip quivering. “No, that’s not true, you’re lying.”

“I know you know, sweetheart.” He doesn’t miss the way she shudders at the nickname. “I know your brother told you and I know you know deep down that the reason you found him dead the next morning was  _because_ he knew.” She doesn’t say anything, only whimpers and clenches her eyes shut at the memory, head dropping and wrists going lax between his fingers.

“I’m a spy. I was working with the locals and I was sent in with clear orders to set the gang up but when we found out it was only those two whose hands were dirty, we focused on them. I was told, get in, get close, set them up, get out. I was  _undercover_.” Tears are steadily trailing down his cheeks, now, breath shaky and green eyes greener than ever before. He places a hand on her cheek hesitantly, letting hers fall on his chest, and wipes the drops off her soft cheek hesitantly with the pad of his thumb. She makes no move to pull away. Dean wants to scream at the relief that unties the tight knot in his chest. She doesn't hate him. 

“What they didn’t tell me was that I’d fall in love somewhere in the process.” It’s croaked and broken but by no means regretful. Her eyes open again and see the crooked, quivery smile he’s struggling to keep on his face. “That was not part of the plan.”

He’d never admitted it before. Not during the day anyways and never this loud and clear, terrfied of the consequences it may have. He’d whispered it against her lips under the safety of the darkness or relied on his actions to show her.  

“And now they’re after you,” she states, seemingly justnow figuring it all out. He nods, letting her face go, thumb slowly stroking her knuckles absent-mindedly. She doesn’t move away. Dean wants to cry harder. “They’re after me too aren’t they?”

“I promise you, even if it costs me my life, even if you  _hate_ me,” he pauses and inhales shakily, “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, understand?” Dean, blurry eyed and regretting ever involving her into this mess, steps back, dropping his arms. She’s looking at him like a kicked puppy and he would rather die fifty times over than see her like this and know it’s him that caused it.

Suddenly the door bursts open, splinters flying. Y/n gasps and immediately, Dean pushes her behind him hands reaching for one of the two guns tucked in his belt and pulling it out lightning fast.  

Donny walks in all macho-like and stupidly confident. He’s short but no less threatening, built, with sleeve tattoos and a shaved skull, eyes a piercing blue. Dean holds the gun up, aiming directly at his face.

“Well, well, here he is.” Behind him, two overgrown men walk in, guns in hand, filling the small room with their towering, wide frames. “The wayward son.” He tsks. “Aw, I’m sorry, did we interrupt something? Were the two lovebirds having a moment? Shame. We’re very so-“

“Fucking Christ, do you ever stop talking?” Dean doesn’t bother wiping his eyes, simply blinks his tears away with a roll of his eyes. Protecting her is the only thing that goes through his mind. He can only pray Y/n has seen the second weapon, can only hope she gets the hint and takes it out.

Donny tsks again.

“Straight to the point then, Michael, is that right?” He takes a step closer and Dean only emphasizes the fact that he has a gun aimed at his face by rolling his shoulders and blinking challegingly. The two men behind him do the same. “Fine.” Donny fixes the sleeves of his white dress shirt and Dean does nothing but picture how red it’s gonna be after he shoots several holes through the fucker. “We can do this the easy way, and your precious little girlfriend, my darling cousin," he sends her a smile that sends Dean shivers crawling down his spine, "will remain unharmed.” Donny holds his hands behind his back. “ _O_ _r_  we can do this the hard way, which won’t turn out very well for either of you.”

How cliché can this guy be, honestly.

Dean Winchester is no fool. He’s aware there are probably two more guys, much like the two behind this clown that’s so into theatrics, ready to grab Y/n and drag her nowhere good, kill her slowly and make him watch. Her best bet is probably with him. He calculates the size of the two men.

His train of thought halts when he feels Y/n small hands go under his leather jacket. She saw the second gun. He needs time, merely a couple more seconds.

“Well, from where I’m standing,” Dean puts an infuriatingly cocky smile on his face as he feels the metal that had now the temperature of his skin, slide from the waistband of his jeans. “You boys are screwed.”

“The hard way it is, then”

* * *

The night air is chilly.

Sirens echo in the night, flashing lights and voices, a mess of people with a purpose.

He can see her, shaken and shivery and loathes himself, for no other reason than the fact that if it wasn’t for him, she’d still be oblivious but  _safe_. She wouldn’t have to go through this.

They won.

At least in his eyes they did.  _She_  just lost her family.

 _And what a family it was_ , he huffs to himself.

She’ll be alright, he think. She’ll get through this, time heals all wounds and all that, but he knows deep inside that that’s a lie. Time doesn’t heal wounds, it numbs them.

“And you vouch for her Mr. Winchester?”

“Without a single doubt in my mind.” Chief purses his lips making his mouth hide under his moustache. Dean always found it funny but he doesn’t have it in him to be amused right now.

“Alright then.” He nods. “When we finish getting her statement, you’re both free to go. Thank you for your service,” He offers his hand. “It’s been a pleasure working with someone who knows what they’re doing.” He smiles tightly. Dean shakes the man’s hand firmly and nods.

“You too, sir.”

“Now go. She needs you.” The smile that Dean wears is shocked, embarrassed and apologetic and so are his arched eyebrows. “I’m the only one that knows. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

“Thank you.” The Chief winks and nods respectfully, turning his back.

Dean spins around.

She’s lucky to have made it out relatively unscathed. He has a deep graze on his shoulder and he’s a few hairs shorter because of two stray bullets, but he’s thankful of whatever greater power made two of Donny’s best men  _miss,_ even if it was by less than a handful millimeters _._ He assumes the surprise of a second gun gave them an important advantage.

She’s sitting on the cracked pavement with a blanket over her shoulders and an officer pestering her with questions she seems unwilling to answer. Her messy bun is messier than it was half an hour ago, officially half-collapsed, she’s shaking and though she seems strong to the naked eye, he knows she’s a hair’s width away from collapsing from both exhaustion and mental strain.

He could’ve lost her tonight.

It’s a thought that, even right now, even when both of them are safe and sound, makes his skin crawl and his heart race. She was so brave and fierce and, though he despises her dad, he thanks him internally for teaching her the basics of using a gun. It’s obvious that that’s the reason they’re alive.

The second the gunshots had stopped, policemen filled the scene, seeing three severely but not lethally injured bodies on the floor. Y/n panted, Dean clutched his shoulder, Donny yelled in pain and the two asshats that were with him passed out. Thankfully the only thing they’ll be seeing for the rest of their lives will be iron bars.

Dean’s brought back to the present what seems like hours later, when the officer thanks Y/n and walks away. Dean approaches her slowly and sits a good two feet away from her, giving her space to breathe. They don’t talk for a while.

“You wanna crash over my house?” He clasps his hands and tangles and untangles his fingers, looking at her. “I have a spare bed.” She seems lost and dazed, eyes unfocused, but she nods. A lot of things happened tonight. It’ll take her some time to process it all, but he’s confident she’ll be alright. A fresh bed, new scenery, a place where nothing can remind her what happened, it’s probably all she needs to forget tonight.

* * *

“Stay.”

She’s dressed in his clothes, cuddled in his sheets,  _his_  bed. Doe-like eyes pleading and hopeful, ready to fill with tears, staring at him intently. He stares back, unsure if this is what she really wants, but follows along anyways.

He doesn't shed his sweatpants like he usually would and climbs in the bed in an old sleep-soft tee. He wants to cuddle up to her, hold her and let her lay on his chest but, after the night she’s had, he’s not sure she’d be comfortable touching him. And anyway, he's unsure where they may go after all this. Will she forgive him for lying to her? Then again she  _did_  ask him to stay with her.

Nevertheless, he gives her the benefit of choice when it comes to physicalities.

“I almost lost you today.”

She’s on her back, hands over the blanket resting on her stomach. She’s not looking at him. Dean isn’t looking at her either. He hums. He’s on his back too, hands behind his head, right leg bent, knee just over the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t know how to reply.

Instead he turns his head towards her and swallows. "C'mere," he says and stretches his arm over her head. He gives her a look,  _that_ look, of unhurried, non-judging patience. She studies him, gazingat his facial features as if she’s memorizing them, storing them safely in a crevice of her mind. One, two breaths later she shifts closer but instead of curling up on his chest, she lets his arm fall between her jaw and shoulder, far enough to be able to look at him but close enough to live in his familiar warmth.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, kid.” She scoffs.

“I knew you’d say that.” An eyeroll. Dean offers a tired, unapologetic smile but doesn’t take his eyes off of hers.

She’s  _beautiful_. So beautiful he gets lost in his thoughts, studying her gentle features. He wants to share every night with her, just like this, every morning and tear and sunshine. He wants to  _be there_ , to love and cherish her, to hold her, to do right by her. He wants a chance for all of it. 

“It scared me so much.” Between thinking and gazing absently at her, he doesn't realize her eyes have filled with tears. “The idea of you not-” She sniffles and closes her eyes.

“Hey, now.” He says gently and wipes the single tear that escaped with the pad of his thumb. His hand rests on the side of her face, thumb lightly stroking her cheek. “I’m here, aren’t I?” She nuzzles in his palm for a second before she opens her eyes. Everything stills.

He wants to kiss her. He wants to hold her infinitely and take the pain away from her eyes. He wants to delete the night she just went through and replace it with soft, affectionate touches and whispered ‘I love you’s because that’s all she deserves. He wants to never have to look away from her, to be sucked in her warmth, to paint his walls in her favorite color and dust his sheets with her scent.

About twenty beats of his heart later –which isn’t long considering it’s almost hammering in his chest- she moves and crashes her lips to his, teeth clashing and all, fierce and passionate and longing and he responds with just as much emotion. He keeps his one hand on her face, the other one falling on her waist a second later, sweet and hot. Electric touches of her fingertips trailing from his chest up to his scruffy cheek and deep into his dark brown locks, emitting a reaction from his thumping heart he’s sure she can feel. He lets her push herself on her elbow and spreads his legs for her to fit comfortably between.

“Don’t. Ever. Lie. To Me. Again.” She says between kisses and he grunts, hips lifting off the bed to brush against hers. His fingers find their way to the skin on her waist, under her shirt, skin-to-skin contact jostling, making her kiss him harder as if she’s punishing him.

“Never.”

He pauses and pulls back for a second. She looks at him curiously, eyes lustful and dark. He smiles, affectionate and adoring, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, gently pushing her flusher against him, hips to hips.

“I love you.” He meets her eye. A crooked smile breaks out on her lips.

He wishes he can make it stay there forever.


End file.
